Steele Dreaming

by Tanya Reed

Disclaimer: Remington Steele is not mine.

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The two of them stood outside of the door, looking both miserable and worried. One of them was Grace, the perfect image of her name-tall, elegant. Even in grief, she was beautiful. Beside her stood Sam, eyes red with crying and slightly chubbier than usual. Neither knew what to do.

Once more, Sam timidly tapped on the door. "Daddy?"

Still, there was no answer. Tears welled up in Sam's eyes and started overflowing once more. Grace remained stony-faced and a slight spark of anger ignited in the blueness of the eyes that mirrored her sister's.

"Where is Lettie? She should be here."

"She's on her way, you know that, Grace," Sam said softly.

"She was always Dad's favorite. He'll listen to her. Would you stop crying?"

Sam looked like she had been slapped. Her face whitened, and her eyes widened. She took a step back from her sister, and more pain washed over her face.

Grace was at once horrified that she had snapped at and hurt her gentle sister. Apologetically, she put her arms around Sam and pulled her close. She realized that she just might be a little jealous of Sam. After all, the younger woman couldn't stop crying. Grace couldn't cry. Instead, she had a deep hollow pain somewhere inside her chest. It was a pressure, pushing on her insides, threatening to squash her. She knew that if she could just cry, some of that pressure would cease. But, she couldn't cry, and the numbness and hollowness stayed there, weighing her down, hurting and hurting.

"I'm sorry, Sam."

There was a noise on the stairs. It was hurried footsteps coming up. They knew it was Lettie before they saw her, brown hair disheveled and freckled face displaying exactly what the other two were feeling.

"Where is he?" she asked without taking time for a greeting.

"He's in there," Grace informed her, "He locked himself in the moment he heard, and he won't speak to anyone."

Lettie brushed hair out of her eyes (which fell right back) and tapped on the door. "Daddy, it's Lettie. Let me in. You have to talk."

There was no answer, so she spoke again. "We lost her, too. We need you."

The door remained a silent barrier. Lettie was even more worried than her sisters were. It was not like their father to lock himself away from them. But then, he had never lost his wife before. Laura, the one he had built his entire life around, the mother of his children, the woman who had torn down his wall of playboy-like indifference and allowed the sensitive, loving man beneath to shine through, was now dead. The women understood; that's why they were worried.

Lettie began searching through her pockets. Her sisters watched her curiously until she hauled something out of the one on the inside of her jacket. Then, their eyes lit up with understanding.

"If I thought that was all there was to it, I would have done that long ago," Grace commented.

Lettie's face got determined. "If he won't come out and talk to us, then I'm going in and talk to him."

"He'll be angry," Sam added. "Besides, what right do we have to intrude on his grief?"

"What if he's decided that he doesn't want to live without Mom? I've lost one parent today. I will not lose the other."

The other two shrugged and watched Lettie expertly open the locked door. She would go in there alone. Both Sam and Grace were too frightened to go in with her. As soon as the door was open, Lettie threw her sisters a 'wish me luck' look before slipping inside and closing the door.

The room was dark. The curtains were drawn, and the lights were off. Lettie barely saw the form of her father sitting on the bed. He did not turn when he heard the door.

"Daddy?" Lettie whispered.

Slowly, the man turned. A piece of light came in through a crack in the curtain and illuminated a small part of his face. Lettie's first thought was, My God, he looks old! The man who had looked almost twenty years less than his age the last time she saw him, fit and barely wrinkled despite his almost seventy years, now looked way beyond one hundred. The bit of his face that Lettie saw was ashen with lines of sorrow already deeply etched into the skin. It was the eyes that wounded her the most. The one that she could see was filled with an aching longing and misery that she couldn't hope to understand.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, Lettie strode forward. Her father stared through her as if she weren't even there. As she got closer, his form became clearer, his misery more apparent. Her own pain seemed nothing compared to his.

Lettie sat down on the bed, close to her father but not quite touching him. He continued to gaze at the place she had been, unseeing.

"Daddy?" she repeated, reaching out to touch his hand.

Hesitantly, he turned his head. A ghost of his smile touched his lips. "You know, you look just like she did the first time I saw her."

Lettie's hand squeezed his. She didn't know what to say. Always, her father had been strong-the unconquerable protector. Lettie felt safe with her father, safer than with anyone else. It wasn't until this moment that she realized that, all of these years, her mother had been his protector. Laura had been the strongest one of all of them.

"Tell me."

"She was tiny and dark, cute and vulnerable looking. Eyes that lit up with joy and anger. Beautiful. I didn't know. I didn't know…How could she leave me?"

Lettie didn't know what to say. "It wasn't her choice, Dad. If it were, she'd never leave."

"Damn her," he whispered.

"Dad…"

"She used to sit here on the bed and comb her hair… long, soft hair… and she would smile at me, flashing her dimples. All those years, and every time she smiled I still fell under those dimples. Now…Now they're gone." His voice began to shake. "I miss them already."

Lettie moved her hand to his shoulder. "Everything's going to be all right."

"How can you say that?" he asked angrily, "Your mother's gone. Nothing is ever going to be all right again!"

"We'll manage. We'll be okay because we have to be. We have to go on, we have the children to think about-Gail, and Remi, and Daniel, and Sam's new baby. They all need us."

"Need? Need! I need her, don't you understand? Go on? You expect me to go on? You tell me, how do I go on without her?"

"It's hard, Dad. I know it's hard. It will probably be the hardest thing you've ever done, but you've got to. We need you."

"I don't think I can."

Lettie silently studied her father, his face ravaged with grief. She felt him begin to shake under her hand and remained quiet, trying to give silent comfort.

"So many memories," he continued so low that Lettie barely heard him. "I thought she was so serious, so well controlled. Then, in a winery, I caught my first glimpse of her impulsive, fun-loving side. It was my favorite side of her, you know. When under its influence, her laugh was like none I've ever heard. Her laugh. It's gone, Lettie…It's gone…"

Then, the tears that had made his eyes sparkle in the dim light began to fall down his face. Remington's body began to shake even more violently, and a sob convulsed through his frame. Lettie, almost giving in to her own sobs, threw her arms around him. Once the man started to cry, he could not stop. It came from him, pouring out his grief. Lettie, not knowing what else to do, just held him while he cried. She held him for a long time.